


Watch the (Sunburst) Throne

by Mirabai0821



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ball so hard the fucking fandom wanna hurt her, Gen, Vivienne appreciation, basically the opposite of what's happened in other places, but first people gotta learn her, it's too late she's in her zone, you are now watching her throne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 22:48:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6678439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirabai0821/pseuds/Mirabai0821
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She she rises.</p><p>They kneel.</p><p>And she is never made to kneel again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watch the (Sunburst) Throne

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MarlenaWatches](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarlenaWatches/gifts).



> This, in light of things, needed to be done.

She is not surprised when they call her name, when they pull a gilded slip of paper etched with “Vivienne de Ghislain” from the holy miter.

De Ghislain is not her name, nor is De Fer. She lost her birth name when she lost her mother and her mother’s tongue–assuming the lilt and tilt of Orlesian because the only way you eat is when you learn to ask pro-per-ly. Each syllable beaten into the skin until it comes out of the mouth. Her tongue is ripped from her but she still gets to keep the flesh.

Losing her name is of no consequence because she’ll son lose this one too. She is Triumphant over Life and so Victoria will subsume Vivienne until she becomes greater than the sum of her parts. She achieves Divinity at the cost of a simple name.

A small price. Easily paid.

She is not surprised, but she acts that way–shuckin’ and jivin’ for the Game one last time before she makes them _all_ dance to her _drum_. And Maker–one thing she didn’t lose when she lost her mother and her name and her tongue was the drum. It is in her heartbeat, tattooed against her ribs and on her skin like the marks of the seer she should have been–in her mother’s land where magic gives Sight to the Blind and Queen’s Blood births the leaders of the world.  

She weeps when they call her name, forces the tears from her eyes so she looks humbled by a Maker who she never really cared for until just now. She weeps great heaving sobs that move the crowd with her emotion, her passion, unawares that when she holds her chest it’s to hold back the la-ha-haughter–of a woman grateful to begin her work.

Victoria victorious, she accepts the crown of cloth and gold on her knees, the last time her joints will kiss the earth, the last time a head or a sword or a threat will ever stand above her.

And when she rises from her knees, they fall to theirs and sing Hosanna! Hosanna! Hosanna!

And when she rises from her knees she lifts her people with her and it is the last time a head a sword or a threat will ever stand above them.

Hosanna!

When she rises, they kneel. The children of dukes, emperors, and kings with legacies ancient are made humble before her whose line began and ended at pair of bloody scissors and the words “It’s a girl!”

Hosanna!

They heed her.

Hosanna!

They bleed for her.

Hosanna!

They carve her name in Light and chant it until the Black City is Gold again.

Hossana! Victoria! Hosanna!

She is not surprised.


End file.
